


Everyone Leaves

by TheGreatCatsby



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: Post Movie, akane isn't alive anymore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 15:09:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5053537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatCatsby/pseuds/TheGreatCatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because you lose someone doesn't mean life stops. Ginoza continues working as an Enforcer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everyone Leaves

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Everyone Heads To The Other Side](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4982275) by [protectginozasquad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/protectginozasquad/pseuds/protectginozasquad). 



> Inspired by the fic listed and also by "Sweet Dreams" by Sandaun because they were both CRUEL and killed off Akane.

Ginoza makes himself go back. 

On some days, his worst days, he thinks that staying on as an Enforcer will make it more likely that he will die sooner rather than later. There's no danger in a rehabilitation facility. But the job of an Enforcer is deadly. There's a very real chance he'll die in the field from some sort of injury. 

(He used to fantasize about attempting to escape. Not a serious attempt, but one that would require him to be subdued. He imagined being shot by the dominator, finally reading above 300. He imagined feeling nothing. And then he stopped, because he saw how Akane's loss affected the others. He couldn't do something as cruel as make them take his life.) 

On his better days, he thinks that staying on as an Enforcer is good for him, because he can protect them like he couldn't protect Akane. They're short an inspector. They're always short an inspector. But his former experience as one is something they can use, even though Shimotsuki is always reluctant. 

Either way, it becomes a distraction. If he's distracted by work he doesn't have time to think about the hollow feeling inside of him. It doesn't start to eat away at everything he is, even though it threatens to. He feels like he's going through the motions, but at least he hasn't completely stopped. 

And his experience lets him. Lets him be good even when he's not at his best. Even when he feels like a ghost. He's been working so long as a detective in some capacity that it's almost second-nature. 

And then Kougami shows up. 

They're called out to an abandoned apartment for suspicious activity. Squatters, probably. They make their way inside, quiet. It's just Ginoza, Shimotsuki, and Hinakawa. Ginoza takes the lead in breaking down the door to the room where the suspicious activity has apparently been taking place. 

The first thing Ginoza sees is a soft light. Someone has lit a fire in the middle of the room. And then, he sees the man standing behind the gentle flames, and the smoke. His dominator is already up, but he lowers it, shouts at the other two to lower theirs. 

Behind the smoke, like some transient figure, stands Kougami Shinya. 

He has his hands up. Ginoza steps into the room. He hears Hinakawa ask, “What's going on?” and Shimotsuki reply, “I don't know.” And then louder, she says, “Enforcer. What's going on?” 

“We're taking him in,” Ginoza says, his voice sounding not like him. “For interrogation.” 

“Why?” 

“Because,” Kougami says, stepping around the small fire. He looks more solid now, less like some sort of hallucination fueled by the lack of sleep and the desperate ache for those who've gone. “I used to work with him. And I'm surrendering myself.” He holds up his hands, making it clear that he has no weapons. 

Ginoza walks towards him as if in a trance. Starved. There are a million things he wants to do, but his training puts him on autopilot, thankfully. He takes out a pair of handcuffs and binds Kougami's wrists. And then he pushes him towards Shimotsuki. 

She says to Hinakawa, “Put out the fire.” As Hinakawa walks past Ginoza, he gives Ginoza a concerned look. But Ginoza ignores it. He keeps his eyes on Kougami's back, suddenly overcome with the irrational fear that if Kougami turns around, he'll be a different person, and everything else would have been Ginoza's imagination. 

They lead Kougami to the car. Ginoza sits with Shimotsuki, just in case something happens. They arrive at the PSB, take Kougami in for processing. Talk about who will interrogate Kougami, and when. Akane isn't here to fight for him anymore. It's possible that he may end up in a rehabilitation facility for the rest of his life, a prisoner. 

At some point when they return to the office, Ginoza says, “I would like to speak to him alone.”

“You can't,” Shimotsuki says. 

“You can be just outside the room. But he was...we worked together. He trusts me. I don't think you'll have as easy a time with him.” 

“You should let him,” Kunizuka tells her, having come on shift. “He knows what he's doing, and he knows Kougami.” 

Shimotsuki sighs. She's tired. They all are. “Fine.” 

*

“Gino.” Kougami's eyes light up when Ginoza sits opposite him in the interrogation room. His hands are chained to the center of the table. “How-” 

“Why are you here?” Ginoza asks, words clipped and cold. 

Kougami frowns. “What's going on?” 

“You can't come here and expect me not to ask that question of you,” Ginoza says. “You can't pretend that nothing happened, or that I didn't tell you to stay away from Tsu—from here.” 

“I realized something,” Kougami says. “When I saw Akane. When we spent time together.” 

Ginoza's hands clench in his lap at Akane's name, and when he speaks, his voice is hollow. Because he knows what he'll have to say. “You decided to come back.” 

“Yeah.” Kougami says. “Because I'm not like Makishima. I don't want to be. What I want is to protect the people I care about. That's different.” 

You're too late, Ginoza wants to say. But he doesn't. Instead he says, “There's nothing for you here. You'll likely be locked up for the rest of your life as an accomplice to acts of terror against the country.” 

“What's my crime coefficient?” Kougami asks. 

Ginoza shakes his head. 

“Why are you the one interrogating me anyway?” Kougami asks. “Shouldn't it be that girl from yesterday? Or Akane?” 

“It was felt that I was best suited for this job,” Ginoza says. “How are you protecting anyone by coming back?” 

“I'd rather talk to Akane about that,” Kougami says. And it stings, in more than one way. 

But it's also surreal, sitting opposite Kougami after years of not being able to, seeing him act like there's nothing wrong. Like there's a future for all of them. Ginoza wonders how long he can keep that going. There's something oddly comforting in it. Even if he knows it has to end. 

“Gino,” Kougami cuts into his thoughts. “What's going on? There's something wrong.” Of course he knows. He's known Ginoza so well, even in the years of absence. The only one besides Akane who could see through him. 

Ginoza doesn't answer. 

Kougami watches him. And then his eyes grow wide. “Ginoza, what's going on with Akane?” 

“She's not here,” Ginoza answers automatically. 

“I know that,” Kougami says. “But what happened to her?” 

It's my fault, Ginoza thinks. Mine. And now there's something replacing the hollowness. Anger. Anger eating away at him, until he feels like he might dissolve into red mist. 

“You weren't here,” he snaps, before he can stop himself. “You don't deserve to know. You left us. And now that you've decided to come back? It's too late.” 

Kougami looks shocked, and a savage part of Ginoza's anger is briefly satisfied. Good, let Kougami hurt. And then it turns back in on itself. And the words come tumbling out, and he has no control over them. 

“I was here,” he snarls. “I should have been there. I promised to protect her. That was my job and I failed. I failed her. It's my fault. My--” He chokes on his words. His cheeks are horribly wet, his vision blurred. He can't even see Kougami anymore. Maybe Kougami isn't there. And it doesn't matter. He can't breathe. Every part of him feels like it's being torn all over again. If he moves, he'll disappear. 

He hears the sound of a chain sliding across the table. And then he hears Kougami's voice. “Gino. Give me your hand.” 

Ginoza's breath hitches. He doesn't understand. 

“Gino.” Sharper, now. A command. “Give me your hand. I can't reach from here.” 

“Why?” Ginoza manages. “You'll leave, too.” 

“I came back,” Kougami says. 

“But why?”

“Does it matter? I'm here. Gino, please give me your hand.” 

Ginoza looks down at his hands. He unclenches them, watches blood spill from the cuts on the palm of his real hand. 

“Gino,” Kougami insists. There's a desperation in his voice that is unfamiliar. Like he needs Ginoza to reach out. 

It's enough. Ginoza lifts his real arm, extends the hand across the table. And Kougami doesn't hesitate to take it, blood and all. He squeezes Ginoza's hand tight. 

“I'm here,” he says. 

Ginoza stares at their hands, clasped together in the middle of the table, Kougami's over his. Kougami's hands are bloodstained now, too. There's an unpleasant warmth, a stickiness. And yet Ginoza doesn't want to let go. 

Minutes pass. And then the door opens behind Ginoza. Kougami looks up. 

“I think it'll be best if I continue from here,” Shimotsuki says. “Enforcer Ginoza, please wait outside.” 

Kougami offers Ginoza a shaky smile. But it still has that self-assurance in it, that confidence that Kougami has always carried so easily, that Ginoza could never quite manage until after Kougami left. It used to irritate him. But now, it brings him comfort. Strength. Enough to let go and stand. 

Shimotsuki takes his place. Ginoza steps outside of the room, where Kunizuka is waiting. 

“We'll figure something out,” she tells him, resting a hand gently on his real arm. 

They'll figure something out.


End file.
